


Touch Starved

by Helasdottir



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, M/M, Sickfic, cabin fever, march of robots, quareedtine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helasdottir/pseuds/Helasdottir
Summary: The small crackle of static from the speakers in the wall makes everything worse. Nothing about it is human, but Gavin’s started prescribing human emotions to the strangle clicks, whirrs and crackles he hears from Nines – the nickname he gave his robotic containment, because speaking to a faceless machine is somehow easier when it has a name. Now he wants to apologize to it, but pride and anger hold back the words.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 22
Kudos: 165





	Touch Starved

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for mentions of vomiting, phlegm, sickness, viral infections, and conversations about life and death.
> 
> Disclaimer: this story is not edited, and I wrote it in two hours. Sorry for any mistakes and for ending it weirdly.

**Quarantine: Day Three**

Being exposed to a mysterious new virus during the first weeks of what becomes a pandemic is bad enough, but quarantine itself manages to be worse. Gavin doesn’t hate the AI in charge of his health, he only hates being completely isolated from physical contact and normal interactions with other humans. He can talk to them through the communication system on the glass wall of his containment, but that doesn’t stop him from being touch-starved by the third day.

A panel opens in the wall by his bed, and the automated mechanism run by the AI slides out a tray of pills and the thoroughly vetted lasagna Tina made him. Gavin doesn’t bother with the pills.

“You will have a higher chance of recovery with the medication,” the robotic voice provides after it becomes clear that Gavin is only interested in the food. If they have the money and technology to create a fully automated robotic hospital room, the insistence on archaic medicine must be some kind of clinical study on Gavin’s susceptibility to being brainwashed. “Your body temperature has risen to 41° C. Brain damage may occur in fevers above 42° C. It is recommended you take the provided medication.”

“Fuck off.” Maybe he hates the AI in charge of his health. He hates it just a little bit. “That’s not even hot, and I feel chilly. _Chilly_. I’d like some chili right now, d’you think I can get Tina to make me chili? Will you sneak that shit past your scanning equipment?”

“Gavin, you are becoming delirious. If you do not voluntarily agree to your medication, protocol mandates I summon a nurse to attend you.” _Nurses_ , of course, are just fancier robots. They look like humans, but even this damn AI has more personality than most of them. “You did not take well to that yesterday.”

Gavin tries to snort and ends up coughing instead, drawing shaky breaths and unnecessarily waving his hand in the air when the AI makes a – _that’s not right_ – concerned sound. Machine learning has really come a long way. Fuck.

“Your phlegm appears more purulent in this scan. There is a consistent buildup along your lower respiratory tract, suggesting further complications arising from this viral infection. I have forwarded a request for more in-depth examinations to be performed with Dr. Stern’s supervision. In the meantime, your medication may lessen the current symptoms.”

“You’re the worst.”

**Quarantine: Day Five**

“How bad can death really be?” Gavin asks, staring at the impeccable white ceiling from his strangely comfortable bed. “I can’t be throwing up snot if I’m dead. Seems like a sweet deal.”

He’s not afraid of death, just as he isn’t making the AI talk with the sole purpose of ignoring the terrifying rattling sound his lungs make when he inhales. It’s only boredom, Gavin is sure of that, because Tina could only stay for three hours and Chris is now isolated to protect his baby.

“I am unable to qualify death as either good or bad, as it is a natural process, but I believe there is a positive value in preserving life.” Believe is a strange word to hear from a computer, and it makes Gavin wonder if artificial intelligence is capable of independent thought. The AI is probably just using machine learning and an expanded database to adapt to his vocabulary, but that doesn’t explain why it sounds hesitant. “Life is a continuous opportunity for change and improvement. Would you accept oblivion over opportunity?”

“What if it’s not oblivion? I’m pretty sure even your computer brain hasn’t got answers for what comes after death, man. I could wake up at the pearly gates and walk on streets of gold, that’d be neat.”

“Does your faith rest in the Christian afterlife?” Delirium must be hitting again, because Gavin thinks the AI’s question sounds _genuine_. “I do not mean to judge human faith, but I am curious how you would be so confident in going to Heaven. My understanding points out the existence of Hell alone should be incentive towards living and taking every opportunity to improve.”

“Jesus. Big fucking questions for a computer. I don’t know what I believe in, but there’s gotta be something out there. Some good place we can go to after all the bullshit we put up with here, to make it worth it, y’know?”

“I do not know.”

“Yeah. Fuck. ‘Course you don’t, Nines.”

**Quarantine: Day Eight**

Gavin wants to _scream_. The energy for it seems caught in his throat, bubbling with the possibility, but he doesn’t want to deal with the android nurses and his inevitable struggle against them, or the idea of being forcibly sedated a fourth time.

Running his fingers over the length of his neck, he tries hard not to claw at the skin. He can’t take another day on his own, locked in this ridiculous box with a machine he’s starting to believe may have feelings.

“In moments of anxiety and distress, the practice of square breathing is recommended,” the AI’s mechanical voice provides, impossibly laced with worry. Gavin can almost see his sanity waving at him from outside his containment. “If you can count the seconds while inh-“

“Stop. Just. Just fucking _stop_.” Gavin meant to yell the words, but fear of consequences holds him back. It’s not enough to contain all of his anger, though, not when the gaps between his fingers feel full of electricity, and he needs to stretch the skin under his nails to calm his mind. “I can’t do this shit. I feel like I’m a second away from breaking that goddamn glass with my hands just so I can feel something that isn’t synthetic fucking sheets on my skin, and if I have to put up with your bullshit about _breathing_ and _calming down_ , I’m going to find your control panel and rip out your fucking wires.”

To top off the cocktail of unwanted feelings, guilt hits the second he finishes his threat. It comes as a wave of acid against the back of his tongue, one that is quickly swallowed down with a sob. Gavin knows the AI doesn’t feel, it doesn’t hurt, but it has been looking out for him – putting up with his crap for a week isn’t easy, particularly when he’s sick and unstable, even for a perfectly programmed medical robot.

The small crackle of static from the speakers in the wall makes everything worse. Nothing about it is human, but Gavin’s started prescribing human emotions to the strangle clicks, whirrs and crackles he hears from Nines – the nickname he gave his robotic containment, because speaking to a faceless machine is somehow easier when it has a name. Now he wants to apologize to it, but pride and anger hold back the words.

They don’t speak again until Nines runs another scan. It speaks in an emotionless monotone when telling Gavin his lungs have begun to clear, and that hurts more than the cough.

Gavin falls asleep hugging his pillow, tears drying on his cheeks.

**Quarantine: Day Ten**

“Ha!” Gavin exclaims loudly, jumping in his seat as he beats Tina for the second time. He waves his controller in the air and sticks his tongue out at the glass, grinning widely when she rolls her eyes. If being sick and out of work has done a single good thing for him, it’s his improvement at Mortal Kombat. “Fifth game?”

“I need to head home. There’s a curfew now, and I don’t want to be fined because I was out late playing video games.” Tina’s voice is dripping with regret and Gavin’s smile fades, but he nods in understanding.

“Yeah. Totally, I get it. Go on, I’ll just see if I can beat Nines.”

“You know it’s weird that you gave your hospital room a name, right?”

“A little. It’s the only thing that talks to me more than you, though, so I figured it was only fair. He’s better than those android nurses they have terrorizing everyone.”

“They’re only rough because you hurt yourself when you struggle,” Tina points out, slightly amused at his antics. She knows he’s scared, but she also knows that ignoring that fact brings him comfort. “Try not to get knocked out by too many of them while I’m at home.”

“Fuck you,” Gavin laughs, ignoring the way his lungs strain to release the air he needs. If Tina notices, she doesn’t let on.

**Quarantine: Day Eleven**

Flipping mindlessly through the entertainment options on his screen, Gavin rolls his head back to look at the ceiling. He likes to look at the ceiling when he talks to Nines, because then he can pretend someone is in the room and he’s just not looking at them.

“I am so fucking bored, I feel like my brain is going to melt,” he complains, dragging his teeth over the inside of his lower lip. He accidentally bites too hard and hisses at the pain, then coughs weakly and sinks down against the bed. “Can’t you let someone in yet? Am I still contagious?”

“According to the latest scan, you remain contagious to other humans. It is unsafe for another person to enter this containment.”

“Damn. Oh. Hey, Nines, do you think you’re a person?”

“A person is, by definition, a human being regarded as an individual. I am not a human being, and therefore am void of personhood.”

“Hold up, aren’t some words like poly- polycystic? Like they have different meanings, right?”

“Polysemic?” Nines provides, sounding awfully smug. Gavin flips off the ceiling and hopes the AI’s sensors can capture the movement in full. “Yes, that is true. I would characterize myself as an individual, perhaps, but not a _person_.”

“Isn’t that the same thing? You’re just being picky.” Gavin isn’t sure what the dictionary definition of individual is, but it can’t be so far removed from humanity. The dictionaries are written by humans, after all. “I guess what I wanna know is if you – if you have emotions or some shit. It’s stupid, I know, but humor me.”

“It’s not stupid. You are experiencing a mixture of projection, where your expectations and emotions create a perception of feelings directed towards you, and proper observation. Patients are rarely kept in this containment for long enough, so I appreciate being noticed.”

“Wait. Hold up. Was that a yes?” Sitting up abruptly, Gavin immediately regrets his decision. Nausea and dizziness hit him at once, an intense reminder of his weak state. “Shit.”

“It was. Close your eyes and count to five while inhaling, please.”

**Quarantine: Day Twelve**

Gavin doesn’t want to take any more medication. His lungs have, for the most part, stopped making strange noises. He can drink an entire cup of water without stopping for a cough break. He hasn’t had a fever in three days – clearly, he’s beating this virus.

“It is _because_ you are improving that you need to continue your treatment,” Nines explains, sounding entirely too exasperated for a caretaker. “I recommend you take your medication.”

“What are you gonna do, call the robo-nurses on me? I’m not gonna die if I miss one pill.”

“Would you be more agreeable to proper medication if I offered something in return?”

That piques Gavin’s interest. He doesn’t know what exactly Nines can give him, but there must be few things off-limits for someone whose brain is the entire Internet. He makes a humming sound, one that still hurts his chest, as if he’s mulling it over for longer.

“Sure. What’ve you got?”

“If you take your medication now, I will grant you companionship in containment.”

“Is that a fancy way to say you’ll be talking to me like you are now, trying to trick me? Or do you mean like, having someone in here?”

“I am not tricking you. You will have physical companionship inside the containment unit minutes after your medication is taken.”

The memory of human contact alone is enough to make Gavin’s eyes well with tears. He blinks them back, but moves quickly to swallow all three pills at once, prompting one of those chastising clicks from Nines’s speakers.

There is complete silence following his compliance, and Gavin thinks maybe he was tricked – and then someone walks by the glass and towards the doors. The first one unlocks and the figure disappears inside. After proper isolation, the second door unlocks and a man steps into the containment.

Gavin doesn’t know this man. It doesn’t matter, because he still wants to reach out and hold him, and only part of that is because the man is unfairly attractive. He’s wearing white and black, his eyes the same blue color as the containment’s entertainment menu, and his jaw is _strong_.

“Um. Nines?” He means to ask the AI for guidance, for some sort of explanation. He doesn’t expect Nines’s voice to come from the strange man, or the smug expression that follows it.

“Yes, Gavin?”

“Shit. What the- you absolute fucking-“ Gavin takes a step back, then several steps forward until he can touch the stranger – until he can touch _Nines_. Under his hands, it’s clear the clothed chest belongs to an android body, but it’s also warm and surprisingly soft. Tears cloud his vision, impossible to contain, and Gavin shakes when Nines embraces him.

It’s only seconds before his body is wrecked by violent sobs, his arms clinging to Nines as if his life depended on the contact. Gavin feels so starved of affection that now, with a gentle hand combing through his hair, it hurts as much as it pleases him.

**Post-quarantine: Year Four**

“And that’s how I met Nines,” Gavin explains, gesturing towards his husband. Nines looks quietly amused, both due to Gavin’s dramatic retelling and Chris’s dumbfounded expression. “He loved me even though I was throwing up snot.”

“That’s really disgusting.”

“I know, right?”

“It’s kind of a dick move to leave you alone when he could have just been there, though, isn’t it?” Chris asks, clearly concerned. Gavin shrugs.

“I did not possess a body, but it was distressing to see Gavin struggle. I had not felt such personal distress before,” Nines explains, careful with his words. “Some days of work were required before I could acquire this vessel for my consciousness.”

“Alright, that’s romantic. A little disturbing, but romantic.”

“Disturbingly romantic, that’s us,” Gavin replies with a crooked grin. Chris laughs, and Nines tries to hide his joyful crackle of static behind a half-smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @xhelasdottir.


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